Habits
by Lunchbox413
Summary: And then he realizes that he may never again see this girl, this fascinating woman who's simultaneously changing his opinion about all kunoichi as well as rapidly finding her way through the maze of walls that he's strategically placed around his heart. - Set in Shippuden right after Asuma's death. ShikaXTema Pairing


**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of it's characters. They all belong to the brilliant Kishimoto.**

**A/N: This takes place in Shippuden, sometime in between Asuma's death and the mission to take down Hidan and Kakuzu. **

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The hilltop is empty, as he knew it would be, and the sun is unusually hot. It's a clear day and there's not a single cloud in the sky, much to his irritation, but he finds a place in the shade, beneath one of the trees, and stretches out in the grass. Since cloud watching is not an option, he tries to focus on the leaves overhead, but there's barely a breeze and they only move slightly every now and then, and he grows bored with them quickly.

Digging into his pocket, he pulls out the small silver lighter. He stares at it just long enough for unwanted memories to begin surfacing in his mind, but he quickly dispels them by flicking the lighter open and switching his focus to the small flame as it comes to life and dances in his hands.

_She should be arriving anytime now_.

Reaching into his other pocket, he pulls out a cigarette from the half-empty pack he's been carrying with him ever since...but he still hasn't smoked one. Honestly, he's never cared for the things, but right now, with boredom and unwelcome recollections threatening to overtake him, he's tempted to light one up. He knows he shouldn't, that it will make him a hypocrite, but he keeps on playing with it, rolling it between his fingers, until he finally caves.

The first puff is a little strange and he inhales too fast and chokes, but he tries again and after a few awkward drags, he gets the hang of it. He actually likes the way the smoke burns his throat and warms his lungs and leaves him feeling mellow and languid—even more so than usual. Once he's got the basic inhalation down, he begins making his own clouds with the smoke, releasing it from his mouth a little at a time, and then all at once, to create different sizes and shapes.

"I didn't know that you smoke?"

He must be off his game. He didn't even hear her coming, and now she's standing over him. If she'd been an enemy, he'd be dead.

"I don't," he answers flatly, before taking another drag and releasing the smoke from his mouth in a laggard, curling stream.

Temari dissipates the fake cloud with a wave of her hand and scrunches her nose up in disgust. "How can you stand that? It smells terrible."

Shikamaru shrugs. "Well, don't stick your face in it."

The blonde glares at him and she looks like she's about to yell, but instead, she takes a seat in the grass beside him and crosses her arms. "So, have you always smoked? Or is this a new?"

He groans and rolls his eyes. "Do you always ask so many questions?"

"Are you always this much of a jerk?" she retorts, angrily, glaring. But the glare doesn't quite reach her eyes and he can see he's hurt her feelings even though she's doing her best not to show it.

Letting out another deep sigh, he props himself up on his elbow, but she looks away, refusing to meet his apologetic eyes. He puts out the cigarette butt in the dirt and reaches over, taking her hand in his.

"What are you doing?!" she asks, and tries to pull away, but he squeezes her hand, refusing to let her go.

"Listen," he begins, with the most sincerest of tones, and she stops struggling, "I'm sorry. You'll have to excuse my foul mood. I'm...sort of having a bad day...But I'm glad you're here. It...it helps." He's not very good at these kinds of things—or any women-related things—but he really doesn't want her to leave, because he needs this. He needs this interaction with someone who doesn't know, who won't ask questions. He just needs to escape.

Temari's still glaring at him, but her eyes are softer, forgiving now, and her cheeks are painted with just the lightest shade of pink. "Th-that's more like it," she falters in her speech slightly.

He pretends not to notice, hoping to avoid irritating her further and instead, interlaces his fingers with hers, enjoying the way her blush spreads and darkens as he does it.

She stares at their entwined hands and for a moment, he thinks she's going to either pull away or slap him, but instead, she smirks and leans back on her elbow, mirroring his posture. "It's alright. I already know that you're an idiot." Her voice is teasing and playful, letting him know he's been forgiven.

He smirks. "Yeah...well, don't forget that this idiot outsmarted you."

"Ha!" she scoffs, "That was a very long time ago. How many times have I saved your lazy butt since then?"

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles. He knows he can't win here, or rather, he could, but it would be far too troublesome.

The Sand kunoichi chuckles and Shikamaru lies flat in the grass, keeping his fingers interlocked with hers and stretching his free arm out behind her on the ground. He stares up at the leaves again, still wishing for some clouds to roll in, and he can feel her watching him. A moment passes and he's about to ask her what she's looking at, but suddenly, she's lying flat in the grass next to him (against him) and her head is resting on his outstretched arm. He's heard of the cheesy yawn-and-stretch to put your arm around a girl, but he's never heard of the stretch-and-girl-lies-back-on-your-arm. It seems a bit too easy this way. But maybe that's for the best. He likes things easy.

She's quiet and still, as if she's waiting for him to say something, but he's not sure what to say, so he wraps his arm around her and pulls her in a little closer and he feels her release the breath she's been holding.

They lie like that for a while, occasionally bantering back and forth. At one point, she pulls her hand free from his and slaps his cheek, playfully—which really grates at his nerves because he hates being slapped—but she nuzzles into his side and interlaces their fingers again and his vexation diffuses immediately. And for a moment, he thinks that maybe this is what his dad meant when he explained why he got married to such a difficult woman.

The sun is disappearing behind the horizon when they finally decide to head back to the village. Temari explains that she's spending the night in Konoha and she'll have to leave first thing in the morning to return the The Hidden Sand. She has many responsibilities back home and she really can't put them off any longer than she already has.

He doesn't argue. He knows that her work comes first and he finds it refreshing to be around a girl whose main motivation doesn't include trying to impress a guy. It's one of the things that he especially likes about her.

As they near the village and the large gates are coming into view, Shikamaru can feel his stomach twisting into knots. Involuntarily, his pace slows and Temari gets a few steps ahead of him before turning around to question him.

"Are you okay?"

He wants to say yes, to give her some bullshit answer that will get her to stop asking questions and to stop looking at him with those concerned, scrutinizing eyes. She probably won't believe it, she's too perceptive and he's been far too physically affectionate and emotionally distant today. There's no way that she doesn't know something's wrong.

He lies anyway. "I'm fine. Just lost in thought. That's all."

She watches him closely for a moment longer before turning back around and continuing down the path toward the village. "Well, then hurry up, sloth. It's already dark and I have a early day tomorrow."

She's letting him off the hook. If he didn't see it in her eyes, he can hear it in her voice. She is playing the clueless game, pretending not to notice the giant elephant in the room. It's obvious that he can't deal with whatever this thing is right now and she's giving him exactly what he needs; a distraction. Of course, she had to offer a chance to talk, just in case he needed that instead, but she's willing to be his distraction for the time being. He'll owe her an explanation eventually, but for now, he's just enjoying using her as an escape.

He walks her to the small inn, where she plans to spend the night, and he offers her his own home as a place to stay instead. "I'll even let you have my bed and I'll take the couch."

But she says no. She doesn't want to put him out. He does his best to convince her, but she's so obstinate that he knows it'd be far too troublesome to try and change her mind.

"Goodnight," she says, softly, before turning away from him.

He really plans on just letting her go and letting this be the end of their outing, but as soon as she's walking away from him, those knots in his stomach twist tighter. And then those plans that he neatly folded and stored in the back of his mind, just for today, come spilling out, flooding his thoughts, and he remembers the bloodstained face of the only man who ever successfully pushed him to live up to his potential. He remembers all the strategies for revenge that he's come up with, and all the possible outcomes, and how there are very few that won't result in his death. And then he realizes that he may never again see this girl, this fascinating woman who's simultaneously changing his opinion about all kunoichi as well as rapidly finding her way through the maze of walls that he's strategically placed around his heart.

He's kissing her now, though he's not sure if he ever made the conscious decision to do so. He almost never acts impulsively, it's against his nature, and he can't help but feel that his former teacher is somehow to blame for this.

Temari is stiff against him and he thinks that maybe he's pushed too far too fast—they've already crossed so many boundaries today—so he releases his grip on her wrist and takes a small step back, waiting for a reaction. Her cheeks are pink again and he's not sure he's ever seen her look so surprised, so thrown off guard. She's used to being the one in control, but then again, so is he.

After a moment or two, he considers apologizing, because she still hasn't moved, but then she meets his eyes and smirks.

"You really are an idiot."

He's a little surprised by her quick change in demeanor, but he shrugs and grins, shamelessly. "Yeah well, don't forget that this idiot still outsm-"

She cuts him off with another kiss, once again amazing him with her assertiveness. _This woman is full of surprises. _But he's not about to let her get the last word in. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her in close, deepening the kiss. She makes a small noise in the back of her throat that almost sounds like a muffled squeak (which is so freaking cute that he almost can't stand it) and brings her hands up to gently rest them on the sides of his face.

The kiss is more tender than voracious and more reserved than passionate because neither of them has really ever done this before and neither of them is looking for anything hot and heavy (not tonight, at least). When it ends, he rests his forehead against hers, feeling the cold steel plate of her headband on his skin, and he releases a deep contented sigh.

She smiles and pulls back and he meets her gaze and once again finds that concerned look on her face, the one from earlier, and suddenly his chest feels tight again, and it's hard to breathe.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asks, quietly, gently, so unlike her. "I know you said you're having a bad day, but...you can trust me."

Fantastic. On top of everything else, now he feels guilty. "I know."

They stare at each other for a moment and he's hoping, praying that she can see he that he can't (won't) do this right now.

"Okay," she finally says with a smile, but her gaze falls away from his. She's still worried, but she's trying to understand. This is going on his list of reasons why he likes her.

They say goodnight and she disappears inside the inn. As soon as she's out of sight, he feels like someone is squeezing his lungs and wringing out his stomach like a wet towel. He turns to head home, eager to get to his bed, and he sticks his hands in his pockets and finds the lighter and the carton of cigarettes again. Remembering the tobacco's calming effect, he quickly lights up another little white stick and inhales deeply. The smoke fills his insides, loosening the knots in his stomach and inflating his lungs with warmth and it helps him push the unpleasant thoughts aside to focus on the taste of soft sweet lips against his. It's the beginning of a very bad habit.

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**A/N: This was my first time writing Shikamaru and let me just say, he was not an easy muse to work with. I believe he**** is one of the most complex characters in Naruto, which is why I was hesitant to write this piece at all. ****He has so many layers to his emotions, but he refused to let me get past the first couple because, at this point in the story, he is refusing to deal with the deeper turmoil. He wouldn't even allow me to use Asuma's name because it was too painful and it forced emotions to the surface that he couldn't handle. **

**Anyway, I hope this worked and I hope all you Shikamaru fans enjoy.**


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